Light Rests the Helm
Eleventh Day of the Ninth Month 294 AC
Unseen you are by thinnest glamor that you can conjure and silent are your steps in the flame forged halls. Not even Ser Richard's steel tread can be said to be said to be louder than the passage of Garin's shadow, the same
spell that has seen the guards killed serving you now in good stead walking back along the path you came. Yet far from silent is your way.
A great brass gong, inescapable and without source rings and rings and rings again. Fire, foes, and treachery it proclaims in wordless fury at those who had dared trespass upon the domain of the Brazen Throne. Dervishes in flowing robes and acolytes of the guild of Shapers rush towards the place of the attack with more pouring in from the living quarters on either side of you. Fortunately, no one seems yet inclined to look to the door you had, under figment opened... not yet at least, though it is hard to judge how long your luck will hold.
At Garin's suggestion, you had swept up all the corpses in your cloak in the hope that the disappearance would cause at least a moment more confusion, but you have no doubt that a far worse alarm will go off should the chamber be investigated in earnest.
As the sound of the gong fades to be replaced with the march of booted feet and the whirring of arcane gears with the passage of
guardian golems, you turn the corner to face the check point.
The four guards are as you had seen them, guarding the two ends of the arch on either side and looking across the corridor with wariness undimmed by habit... and all of them have
sight that cannot be foiled by glamor. Garin could probably sneak across even so, for the shadows are his friends and secrecy his boon companion, but you and ser Richard do not share the skill. There must be another way ...
At first sight, the helms they bear are no more and no less than means of piercing illusions, the ruby in the center of the forehead a third crimson eye, but there is another
spell entwined with it, almost too faint to notice.
What in the Hells.... you somehow doubt the sultan has gifted them sorcery to help comfort them on the long watch. It's being used as levitation of all things, you realize a moment later, lightening the helms ever so slightly, but the why of it still escapes you. It cannot be to make them more effective, the force exerted is barely enough to notice.
Enough to notice...
The lesser spell is designed to ensure that they notice if their true sight is suppressed. Clever, though you are in no position to fully appreciate it, seeing as they are in your damn way. If there was just one guard you might be able to get away with dispelling the sight and holding up the helm before they even notice the weight, but two is more than you can affect in time.
"I could carry you past," Garin says after you briefly explain what you had seen.
"My magic bag won't work in here but your cloak does..."
"It cannot carry living beings and every spell I know that would make us not count as alive is too powerful to risk."
"Maybe if you shrunk down with one of those fey mushrooms, I could carry you..." He sounds more dubious this time and not without cause, being half your size would still leave you as rather ungainly to carry for Garin, perhaps enough to trip even his stealth.
"I would have to take two trips."
What do you do?
[] Use Reduce Person mushrooms and hope that Garin can hide you well enough to run past the guards, twice
[] Try another plan
-[] Write in
[] Try one of the other routes
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: These are going to be naturally short, but I will try to get a good clip with them. Not yet edited.